


Into Your Shaking Hands, I Place My Heart

by DragonThistle



Series: A Black Backpack Full of Fireworks [7]
Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 09:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13995540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonThistle/pseuds/DragonThistle
Summary: Flug is a genius in many fields, the least of which is experiments with human anatomy. So it's no surprise he's made some modifications to himself.





	Into Your Shaking Hands, I Place My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer? I have a variety of headcanons for What's Under Flug's Bag™ but for this series I try to keep it mostly ambiguous. But for this one (and "A Trophy of Your Worth"), Flug's a human who's done a few...experiments on himself.
> 
> By the way, I wrote this while I was at work, completely on my work computer, so I apologize for how awkward this is. I swear I'm working on finishing "The Lady and The Tiger" but I've been hella busy lately. Got a puppy to be a service dog and moved to a new place and things are just kinda nutso.

"Where is that blasted doctor!?" Black Hat snarled. Demencia, who had been skittering along on his coattails, suddenly found herself pinned to the wall by Black Hat's cane, the curved top grinding hot like live coals against her windpipe, "Where is he!?"

Demencia gagged, frothing at the mouth, half grinning just from the attention even as she pawed at the cane, trying to breathe, "Lab--" She croaked and Black Hat dropped her with a scowl. She was quick to recover, she always had been. But even in the seconds it took to cough and straighten up, Black Hat was long gone.

Of course, the lab had been the first place he'd looked. Flug hardly left his lab and he only did so very briefly to snatch some food or sleep. Black Hat had checked the stark white room already and it had been silent save the a concoction gently fizzling away above a low burning flame. The villain stuck his head back into the room anyway but, just as before, it was empty. He growled and was about to leave again when he paused. He hadn't checked the entirety of the lab, just stuck his head in, shouted, and left when he'd gotten no answer.

Flug might be in the back playing with his...toys.

Grumbling under his breath about how difficult Flug made his life, Black Hat stalked across the lab and slipped into the back hallways. Soundproofed doors lined the walls, empty for the most part, and the heels of his dress shoes clicked on the polished tile floor. He wanted his scientist to know he was coming and he wanted Flug to be afraid that Black Hat had had to come looking for him.

Then he smelled the blood.

That iron-ozone stink that was only associated with one person.

Black Hat's eye narrowed and he picked up the pace. Flug didn't bleed that much very easily so that could only mean something had gone horribly wrong. The scientist was no fool when it came to his equipment so that only left one his subjects getting out of his control. Flug's sadistic streak did tend to rile him up a bit so it would be no surprise if the excitable doctor suddenly found himself biting off more than he could chew. Still, if something had harmed Flug, then whatever it was had better start praying for their immortal soul for they were to soon part with it. 

The villain followed the stench of the blood to the last door in the hall. It was locked tight, marked with biohazard warnings and the danger notifications usually reserved for the deadliest and most dangerous of Flug's test subjects. However, locked doors were nothing to a creature like Black Hat and he stepped through the solid steel barrier as if it wasn't there at all.

Whatever he was expecting on the other side, it was not what he saw.

He was met with the sight of Flug, propped up on an examination table, covered nearly head to toe in blood. The scientist's chest was peeled open, skin and muscle parted like curtains, ribs spread and cracked at a painfully wide angle, all his organs glistening in the bright overhead lights. Flug's hands were deep in his own innards, moving slowly, delicately, and with more confidence than one should have when messing with ones own insides. His bag was absent but his goggles were strapped on to block the glare of the surgically bright lights. He hadn't noticed Black Hat, his gaze on the full length mirror hanging overhead, tongue poking out from his chapped lips as he focused on his task. 

Black Hat watched silently for a moment, waiting. When Flug raised his hands out of his own chest, the villain cleared his throat to get the inventor's attention.

"B-B-Black Hat, s-sir!" Flug's voice cracked and he nearly dropped the needle-nose pliers in his hand.

"What are you doing?" Black Hat's face and voice were carefully blank as he let his gaze sweep over the scene before him. The heavy scent of blood was saturating the air. That was far too much blood; Flug should not have even been conscious.

"J-just a routine ch-checkup, sir!" Flug stammered. He looked as though he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar rather than his own chest cavity, "Nothing you need to--to be bothered with!"

Black Hat could taste the lies tangling with the smell of blood. He slowly raised an eyebrow and walked smoothly across the room to stand beside the examine table. This close, he could see how much Flug was trembling, how the IV drip and blood transfusion in the inventor's arm could only do so much, how the bits of wire and manufactured parts glistened amongst the organic slop in Flug's chest. His gaze slid over the open body before him and up to meet Flug's wary eyes.

"Taken to lying now, have we Flug?"

It caused him no small amount of glee to see his scientist shiver. Flug broke eye contact and swallowed hard, looking down to watch his own lungs expand with each labored breath.

"S-sorry, sir. It's just you don't need to dirty your hands with--with all...this." The needle-nose pliers gestured weakly at the mess, "Th-there's just been a slight malfunction with s-some of my equipment, is all."

"What kind of malfunction?"

If it was at all possible, Flug paled even further, "Ih-it's just--nothing major, really--just s-some loose wiring th-that's causing..." Flug's voice grew quieter and he wouldn't look at his boss, "C-causing my h-heart to stutter and occasionally sh-shorting out my lungs and frying my nerve eh-endings causing an excruciating amountofpainpleasedon'tbeangrywithmesirI'msorry!"

Black Hat's eye narrowed and he snatched the pliers from Flug's shaking hand. Flug squeaked, shrinking back as much as he could.

"Instruct me."

Flug blinked but Black Hat only starred at him blankly, still holding the bloodied needle-nose pliers.

"I...s-sorry? What?" Flug's bloodied fingers fidgeted on the steel tabletop, making red tiny red smears like delicate cursive writing.

"Instruct me on the proper procedure for fixing your malfunctions." Black Hat said calmly.

Flug still looked mildly confused for a moment before realization cleared the fog from his goggles, "What? N-no! I can do this myself! I MADE this myself!" He looked genuinely offended.

"You are clearly in no state to make these repairs." Black Hat's voice had switched into a chill, somewhat forceful tone, looking down at Flug, two steps for ordering his inventor to comply.

Flug frowned, fighting with his scientific pride and ingrained desire to obey and please his boss. Eventually, logic won out and he lay back on the table with a heavy sigh,

"All right, boss. First, sterilize."

Black Hat's expression soured, "I don't--"

"Sterilize!" Flug barked and then, upon realizing the tone he'd taken with his boss, squeaked out a sheepish, "A-and then...that tray over there...please."

Black Hat scoffed but marched over and dragged the rolling tray filled with wires and tools over, dropping the pliers carelessly onto its surface. Then he shook off his coat (hanging it in midair), rolled up his sleeves, and promptly willed his hands to burst into flames. Flug yelped as the white-hot flames popped and seared the air before vanishing without even a hint of smoke. Black Hat flexed his fingers, unscathed, and raised an eyebrow at Flug, waiting for instructions.

Flug swallowed, took a deep breath that made his spread ribs crackle, and braced himself. This would not be an easy task.

The inventor carefully walked his villainous boss through the steps to making the necessary repairs. It was a slow and laborious process; Flug continually asked for feedback from Black Hat and Black Hat himself was being unusually carefully. No one outside the two in that room had seen the delicacy with which Black Hat worked. The villain was not one for gentleness. Except, perhaps, when it came to his precious employees. He was clearly not fully unfamiliar with humanoid anatomy and worked his way around Flug's butchered innards relatively easily, helped by Flug's careful guidance.

Neither of them were exactly sure how much time had passed by the time Black Hat snapped the last staple that held Flug's chest closed back into place. They were both smeared in blood with exhaustion tugging at the edges of their minds. Flug let his eyes slide close behind his goggles; screw getting back to his room, he'd sleep here.

Black Hat had other plans.

In a deft movement that didn't look like it was quite within the realm of possibility, Black Hat wrapped Flug in his thick, black overcoat, and hefted him off the table, carrying him bridal style. Despite having been hanging in the air for a couple of hours, the coat was fresh-from-the-dryer warm and carried that familiar hot pavement scent. Flug turned his face into his boss' chest, eyes heavy, body too exhausted to take in exactly what was happening. Black Hat, however, didn't seem to mind. 

He stepped into a pool of shadows, leaving the blood soaked lab behind and emerging into Black Hat's bedroom. It was as rarely used as Flug's but at least he knew neither Demencia nor 5.0.5 would dare enter it without invitation.

"Bothersome mortal." Black Hat grunted as he tucked Flug into the large bed, carefully drawing the thick blankets over the inventor's thin frame, "Stupid child. Idiot. Fool." The villain paused for a moment, dark eye tracing the bony, scar-marred structure of Flug's face; the ghosts of stitches and cuts, the skin warped by screws and bolts, the bubbled and stretched taut tissue around his eye. Flug was fast asleep now, his own blood caked and dried across his skin and chalked under his fingernails. 

Black Hat reached out and, ever so gently, brushed a hand over Flug's tangled hair, pushing it out of the man's face. Then, with as much delicacy and caution he displayed when operating earlier, he removed the goggles and set them on the bedside stand. Flug shifted in his sleep, winced at the pull of skin on his chest, and then settled back down again. 

"Infuriating." Black Hat growled and spun out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him, "What a waste of time. Useless human and his masochistic, self-experimental desires. Bah! I need to go destroy something!"

Back in the bedroom, Flug's eyelids fluttered, his mismatched eyes glanced blearily around the room, and he let them fall closed again. He snuggled beneath the blankets, breathing shallow and careful, and pushed his face into the pillow. It smelled of spice and cinnamon and summer heat.

Flug smiled.


End file.
